Most parents are scared to let their children fail. After all, no one wants a child to feel the cold sting of embarrassment or the torment of loss. Therefore, preventing failure is exactly what our culture attempts to do by installing rubberized cocoons and calling them playgrounds, and forcing tie scores in grade-school basketball games.

We seem to forget that without struggle, there can be no progress. Without embarrassment, there can be no empathy. Without failure, there can be no success. By outright avoiding the challenges of failure and embarrassment now, we are screwing up our children. We are creating future adults too fragile to exist in a world that won’t kiss their every boo-boo and gloss over their errors.

Can we stop the madness of over-protecting our children from every one of life’s potential pitfalls? I frankly do not know if it is too late to reverse course. However, I have come up with five easy steps that qualify as the opposite of helicopter parenting that you can take right now to make a difference.

1. Don’t do your child’s school projects

It is 100 percent a douche move to do the majority of your kiddo’s school project work. If you need to live vicariously through your child’s faux accomplishments in third grade, you are a colossal loser.

And, in case you’re wondering, you ain’t fooling anyone. We can all tell your kid had nothing to do with their pristine blue-ribbon winning science fair entry. You need to step off. Let them carry into class their crappy diorama with glue streaks because that is their real output. That kind of youthful failure is to be embraced. It will encourage them to try harder next time. And the next time and the time after that. This process is called “evolution.” If you do not let your children fail then you are stepping on its throat every time you complete assignments on your child’s behalf. Stop it.

2. Don’t correct their homework

How can anyone learn when their work has been scrubbed and sanitized? How will teachers know what your kid does or does not ACTUALLY know if every answer is correct, some of them artificially, on their homework when it comes back the next day? Let your kids try to use the knowledge they are accumulating in class. Let your children fail by getting some of the answers wrong. Allow them to be corrected by their teachers. This teaches them how to process constructive feedback from someone not related to them. Otherwise, you are standing over their shoulder applying Wite-Out to their childhood educational experience.

3. Shut up during sports

Dudes, tone it down. Let the coaches coach. Let the refs and the umps do their best. Trust in the process. Stop shouting in-game corrections to your kid and their teammates. If you do have a legit beef, be an adult and voice it on the down-low without veins bulging from your neck while you sit 20 yards off in the distance. Instead, allow your child and their instructors to work through the nuances of their performance. You are embarrassing yourself, your family, and most importantly, your kid. Now sit the hell down and shut up.

4. Let ‘em fall

You’re supposed to fall off the monkey bars while learning how to get from one side to the other. That’s how this stuff works. It’s called “trial and error,” not “trial and repeated help from a scared parent.” Kids have to know what it feels like to lose their grip, to feel the beads of sweat forming on their clammy palms, and to struggle mightily to stay attached to the cold metal bars, only to eventually succumb to gravity and hit the recently rubberized woodchips hard. Dust ’em off. Give ’em a kiss. Then encourage them to try it again … if not right away, then in a bit when their courage bar refills. Soon, they will get the hang of it, literally, and the glory in their accomplishment will be enhanced for having taken the more treacherous path instead of the padded one.

5. Embrace mistakes

Too many kids are not being allowed to make mistakes in their youth, the exact time when mistake-making SHOULD occur. Kids are going to screw up. They are going to invite ants into their room by leaving remnants of a sugary snack on the floor. They are going to drop and shatter a plate when trying to carry too many dishes while clearing the table after dinner. It is our job to pull lessons from these moments and teach a better way forward. That is one of the biggest “asks” of parenthood: to have the tough conversations, to give constructive feedback to help them learn from mistakes, to hold them tight but not hold them back when they are scared of failing, to give them the space necessary to try on their own, to love at every turn.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

A version of this first appeared on Out With the Kids and then here in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo by Gustavo Fring via Pexels.

Are you a worrying parent?

I was but I’ve been at this long enough to have accumulated quite a bit of dirt beneath my fingernails (which have been painted numerous times and in a variety of colors by my two daughters) and to have walked a metaphorical mile with LEGO bricks stuck to the bottom of my parental feet. Still, I’m not immune to the nagging twinge of parental insecurity, and I too doubt myself more than any parent who tries probably should.

It’s damn hard to be alive and alert in the Pinterest age of perceived perfection filled with amazing school lunches and darling lunch notes, handmade end-of-year teacher’s gifts that radiate thoughtfulness, and countless kid/parent video series, each one more clever than the last. I can’t compete with all of that shit, either.

But this isn’t a competition. Our kids aren’t going to be holding up a score placard like the crooked Ukrainian judge at the end of a figure skating tournament. They love us and if we try hard, they will notice and appreciate our effort to keep them on the straight and narrow even if we take a winding path to get there. So stop worrying, fretting about every decision and judging yourself against the people of the internet. Half that shit is Photoshopped anyway.

I finally stopped worrying about as a parent these seven things, and in turn, have become a better, happier parent almost instantly:

Stop worrying about serving vegetables and/or fruit every day

My wife and I have built a sturdy foundation, of this I am nearly almost totally 99% certain, probably, so there is no longer (was there ever?) a need to panic about their fruit and veggie intake on a daily basis. My daughters each, although one WAY more than the other, enjoy many varieties of fruits and veggies, raw and prepared in a variety of ways. It’s all good. And if they skip a day or two, I know that they will be fine.

No more worrying about a little extra screen time

It can be fun to loaf around and play games. They are kids after all, and it’s pretty cool to sometimes veg out in front of a TV screen or a device. The outside — with its sticks, lightning bugs, swing sets and scooters — is an option they choose often enough, so I can chillax if they, on occasion, pick the iPad or the 3DS instead. They will be fine.

Stop trying to hit every tourist destination

We no longer push our daughters’ physical or mental limits to squeeze in everything when we travel. Instead, we do what we can at a leisurely pace, see what we can see, experience more of a place than see all of that place, and in turn, leave the girls plenty still to discover should they return decades later with their own kids. So what if we miss something being sold on a postcard at the airport? They will be fine.

Quit freaking that her shorts are too tiny

Their ass cheeks aren’t sticking out, their underwear is not visible, and the pockets are not longer than the hem (man, that trend is hideous) of their denim shorts, but the clothes they are in are a bit tiny-ish. I could never get comfortable in threads like that, although now that I’m losing weight I find form-fitting shirts more pleasant than baggy ones but then again, I am a man — no one is going to bat an eye if my form is evident through my clothing as I walk down the street. Women don’t have it so easy.

My girls are 10 and 7, and they wear what makes them happiest without care about a world full of adults who might judge, men who might leer, or women who might tsk-tsk. My two goofball daughters dress for themselves and no one else, and that is what I wish to instill in them. They are comfy and they will be fine.

It’s OK if they swim immediately after eating

To quote Josh and the Jamtones hilarious “Bear Hunt” comedy skit, “So I just had a piece of pizza, who cares?” Myths are for those with too much time on their hands. Finish chewing then cannonball away, girls, you will be fine.

Stop fretting about crappy pop music

That stuff is no longer a bugaboo for me … but the Demi Lovato version of “Let it Go” still sucks. I’m grateful for the “kindie” music that has allowed me as a music lover to give my daughters song upon song that they were able to “get” from a very young age, songs that spoke to them and their childhood experiences as toddlers, grade schoolers and now as kids who are just now beginning to grow out of their youth with a wistful melancholy about that very transition.

While she still listens loudly and with much love to amazing bands like The Pop Ups, Recess Monkey, Lunch Money and Secret Agent 23 Skidoo, they now share space in our iTunes library with more familiar names. It is all good because my girls know what great music, made with passion, and presented live in intimate settings, is all about. They’ve been holding hands with it from the start. And they will be fine.

Stop worrying about playing organized sports or extracurriculars

They’ve tried gymnastics, ballet, tap, soccer, karate, basketball, floor hockey, tennis and golf yet nothing has proved as sticky as imaginative unstructured playtime together as sisters at home. They get along with other kids, especially if the other kids are younger and adorable, that’s when my two mini-mommies shine, and so I am no longer concerned with the absence of team or solo competitive pursuits. Many “experts” will tell you a child needs such activity, but even without many going forward, I am certain my daughters will be absolutely fine.

Editor’s Note: A version of this article first appeared on Out With the Kids. Photo by Paul Keller on Foter.com / CC BY

My latest paying gig comes with some choice benefits, the best being I get to work remotely four days out of every five. Once a week, I pop in to the office to touch base, sit in on meetings, and sip some damn fine cardamom-flavored coffee.

The rest of the time, I’m allowed free reign. Being able to work from home has enabled me to help my wife with the daily dropping off and picking up at school of our four kids, ages 8 through 3.

While I’m happy to be more available to lend a hand around the homestead, raising young children is trench warfare. Calling it a full-time job is like describing World War II as a series of border skirmishes. And the logistical maneuvering required to make our household hum makes the Normandy invasion look like a walk in the park. Yet whenever I start to feel overwhelmed, frustrated, or just plain bored with fatherhood, I hit the pause button, and then rewind to see how I could change my children’s future.

The movie I play back reinvigorates me: Our children are happy, well-adjusted, boisterous, clever, engaging little people. While I can’t take credit for all or even most of that, my wife and I have made Herculean efforts to allow our babies to see people with their own eyes, feel the world with their own fingers, do as guided by their curiosity, and develop into the strong-minded, independent children they are today.

Our life’s movie could easily have gone off in a very different direction. We know people — lovely, caring parents — who are raising their kids as best they know how. But there’s only so much these parents can do to guide and protect their children. You see, when a child is diagnosed with a developmental disorder or physiological issue of some kind, all the love and trying in the world won’t completely “fix” it. This is a parent’s greatest challenge: raising a child to be a confident, self-sufficient adult under the most trying of circumstances.

My wife and I are thus doubly blessed. First, our fearsome foursome has thus far displayed no health-related, emotional or psychological issues that could hinder their development. Second, we’re aware of how lucky we are. Good health, mental, physical, emotional and otherwise should never be taken for granted.

However, there are danger signs ahead in my children’s future. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and I’m still hot tempered, quick to judge, and reckless in my actions. Yet when I see one of my daughters displaying these same tendencies, I can’t help but smile. For even though I may never get a full grip on my demons, I now have an opportunity to make sure that those demons will die with me. You can rewrite the scenes from your life in which you would have liked to have acted differently, then gently copy and paste that wisdom into your kid’s life story.

If you’re lucky, they’ll even be willing to sit with you and tweak the parts of their own screenplay that really need some rewriting. Just a few minor modifications early on could well turn out to be the difference between children growing into adults who live bold lives lived on their own terms, and gray lives marred by overwhelming anxiety, chronic confusion, and even unhappiness.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gidon Ben-Zvi is an accomplished writer who left behind Hollywood starlight for Jerusalem, where he and his wife are raising their four children to speak fluent English – with an Israeli accent. Ben-Zvi’s work has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, Algemeiner, American Thinker and Jewish Journal.

Children’s future photo: ©natalialeb / Adobe Stock.

It’s about time to declare my parenting style because, apparently, that’s everyone’s business.

I learned this through the “Parenting and Faith” Sunday school class at our church. Not that I’m that active in that class as I should be. Truthfully, I’m not active at all. I mean I don’t ever go. My wife goes now and again, but, right or wrong, I haven’t filed the class into the “must do” part of my brain. Besides, Micah 6:8 says, “What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” It doesn’t say anything about getting kids ready an hour before worship and then fighting to get the 2-year-old to go tearfully into the nursery for a couple hours.

Anyway, we’re off topic and I don’t want to make God angrier than s/he already is with me. (What up, Jesus!) One of the leaders of the Sunday school class sent out an email asking for discussion on an article in The New Yorker about so-called “free range kids.” Well, here we go…

In theory, hell yes! Raising free-range kids would be awesome. Let ’em do what they do and learn from it without me having to intervene? Uh, yeah. I’ll take it.

Similarly, in theory, helicopter parenting keeps your kids safer, which is also awesome. Follow them closely to make sure no harm ever comes to them and be there to teach lessons the way I want them taught? Yeah, that sounds good, too. But as my good friend and mentor, Homer Simpson, notes, “In theory, communism works. In theory.”

Creating my own parenting style

My kids are young so I can’t say how I’ll feel when they’re old enough to, say, walk or bike to school, but right now I fall somewhere in between the two contrasting parenting styles, but a good bit over on the free-range end of the spectrum — and that’s a direct result of how I was raised. Although I’m sure there wasn’t a name for this parenting style in the 1980s, I’m going to call it “FreeRange-Ocopter Parenting.”

I have no doubt my parents kept a good eye on me when I was a kid, but more often than not, they did so without my knowledge. One of my best friends growing up lived toward the back of the neighborhood and I lived in the front — probably about a half- to three-quarters of a mile from door to door. We routinely rode bikes to one another’s houses starting around age 6 or 7. I distinctly remember the feeling of freedom as I rode my Huffy down the hill where Wild Rose Drive met Hickory Hollow Lane, the wind blowing against my face. The trip probably took me five to eight minutes, but it might as well have been an hour. I was out on my own and it was awesome. What I didn’t know was that my mom and my friend’s mom would call one another to let the other know when he or I arrived. A little parenting from the free-range column, and a little parenting from the helicopter column.

When I was an older, my parent-drawn borders expanded. They let me ride to the creek a few miles away. Usually, my crew of friends would take our BB guns and target frogs or pinecones in trees or each other whatever else. (In the interest of full disclosure, sometimes one of us would bring a .22 rifle. I doubt my mom knew that was happening. Surprise, Mom! Thanks for reading!) We were almost always given a time to return and check in at someone’s house — usually mine. I’m sure there were times that letting me go out and explore, even close to home, made Mom nervous, but she still let it happen. When I was old enough, she even let me drive seven of my friends 40 miles in our station wagon  across Houston to the Astrodome to watch the Astros play — and made us call on our briefcase cell phone as soon as we were in the parking lot.

My parenting style in action

Freedom with limits. That’s what FreeRange-Ocopter Parenting is about. Here’s how I practice it right now with my 2- and 4-year-old (4YO):

4YO: Hey Dad, can I run to that tree over there?

Me: Go for it. I’ll time you.

[Child runs 20 yards away, comes back]

Me: 20 seconds! Great job!

4YO: Can I run to the fence over there?!

Me: Go for it!

[Child runs 200 yards away while I make the 2 year-old stop throwing mulch on other kids. I am not watching the older child run across the park and back but I know where she is and what she’s doing. I can look up and see her at any time. She’s fine, and she feels like she’s been on a huge adventure.]

See how easy that is? Freedom with limits. As the kids get older and more responsible, the limits are expanded. If they break my trust, the limits contract.

Give it a try. If you’re a helicopter parent, you might feel scared. If you’re a free-range parent, you might feel oppressive. But think about how your kid will feel — trusted, adventurous, free.

Of course, this is all subject to change when the kids can drive.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Matt Norman, an at-home dad of three, is organizer of our Austin Dads Group chapter. A version of this post first appeared on And So It Has Come to This.

Photo: Emma Frances Logan on Unsplash

Grandparents Day, always the first Sunday following Labor Day, was especially poignant for our family this year. My mother is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s, and our visits to the nursing home are increasingly difficult as she struggles to remember her children and grandchildren.

Her anguish recently came to mind while my daughters and I were, of all things, ziplining through a forest. On many landings a simple warning sign reads: “Always stay attached.” The sign features a figure falling through the air, his harness belt waving aimlessly like a severed umbilical cord.

Metaphorically, the phrase “always stay attached” struck me as the ultimate mantra of a helicopter parent. Ironically, however, ziplining requires each traveler to ride the lines alone, the ultimate free-range parenting experience. Even though I was up there with my daughters, I was unable to “stay attached” to them. They needed to stay attached to each line, while I could only watch from a distance as they stepped off each platform. It was like watching their first steps again, only this time they walked on air through the trees.

Such a paradoxical combination of attachment/detachment parenting made me think of how most grandparents manage to stay close to their grandchildren but also give them plenty of space. Because they’ve already been through the parenting gauntlet, they seem able to enjoy the children more, worry less, be more detached, and take the long view of child development. Perhaps the road twice traveled makes all the difference.

If grandparenting were a song, it would be the acoustic version of an overwrought predecessor, stripped down to the basic joys of kinship. Strangely, less energy can often lead to more power. That’s what makes a grandparent-grandchild relationship so gratifying to watch (and listen to).

Julie Lythcott-Haims makes a similar point in her recent book, How to Raise an Adult, in which she quotes an admissions officer at a highly selective college. To an essay question asking about the “best gift” the applicants have received, a frequent answer was “‘time spent with grandparents.’” The students wrote “‘he took me fishing,’ ‘she taught me to bake bread from the old country,’ or ‘she showed me a locket that has been in the family for three generations.’ Simple family time spent with someone who loved them unconditionally is clearly a well-valued gift.”

Grandparents protect and slow down time for today’s kids who are often overscheduled, under pressure and stressed out. They are parents “once removed,” which provides an aerial view of what’s most important in life. Today’s parents would do well to emulate this quality of their children’s grandparents: Always stay attached, of course, but whenever possible, also stay detached, to a degree. In other words, sometimes it’s OK to “become your parents.”

Sadly, the memory loss of my mother’s Alzheimer’s is overcoming her attachment to my daughters. But my youngest recently showed me one of her journal entries. It captures the way her precious, protected times with a grandparent will always soar over the forces of detachment: “Grandma, I hope one day you will remember my name. I will remember your name forever.”

Parents suck. Honestly, politicians are probably the worst. And other people’s kids suck pretty bad, too. So do Nazis.

In fact, I changed my mind. I’m going to go out on a limb and say the Nazis are really the worst.

But parents still suck pretty bad. I knew it before I had a kid and it’s become even more apparent since I joined their ranks.

Here are some of the reasons why.

11 reasons parents suck

1. Their kids.
2. Their constant complaining about their ungrateful, undisciplined, un-sleeping, whiny, tantrum-throwing kids.
3. Their constant bragging about their incredibly smart kids, incredibly athletic kids or incredibly cute kids. Guess what? I was smart and athletic and cute once, too. Then I hit puberty.
4. Their constant posting on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest about their kids. There’s a reason I avoid you in real life, stop making me avoid you in fake life, too.
5. The griping about how expensive babysitters are. You know what’s not expensive? CONDOMS.
6. The constant discussions about children’s TV, music, movies and books. I used to watch that junk, too. When I was in college (read: wasted), I didn’t hold nonstop conversations about it. At least not conversations I can remember. I wish I couldn’t remember the last time you brought up how much you hate Caillou.
7. We get it: you’re tired. News flash: Everyone’s tired. It’s called 5-Hour Energy. Quit being a martyr.
8. Their breathless worrying about video games and social media and twerking and sex and violence and alcohol and concussions and peanut allergies and we’re out of hand sanitizer! I heard about this crazy thing the other day, it’s called 200,000 YEARS OF HUMAN SURVIVAL. So take it down a notch, Chicken Little. Your kids will be fine.
9. Their tax break
10. “I can’t! I have to: pick up my kid/hang out with my kid/read to my kid/feed my kid/not drink because of my kid/pretend I care all about my kid’s recital or baseball game or doctor’s appointment/use my kid as an excuse to not have fun because I’m super lame now.”
11. “I can never go to the movies! Waaaah!” You know who can go to the movies? CONDOMS.

Bonus: Their ridiculous, obnoxious, self-righteous, totally unsupportable belief that they’re a better parent than you.

A version of “Parents Suck” first appeared on Dad and Buried. Photo: 6658 Tired via photopin (license)

The free-range parenting debate ignited by children wandering around neighborhoods and on subways by themselves brought an interesting conversation to Facebook the other day. The big question is: Why?

Why are we so paranoid about our children exploring by themselves or looking after their younger siblings. That’s not how it was in the old days. The rule used to be “come home when the streetlights come on.” My response was it has something to do with the loss of our neighborhood networks, social isolation, and lack of community policing. Yet another way to go was that we live in a more dangerous world.

But here’s the thing with that, we don’t. If you look at crime rates, they’re down. Across the board. Murder, violent crime, property crime. Yes, there are more people now. But the crime rate itself is pretty much back to where it was in the 1960s after a spike from the 1970s to 1990s. You can blame the news cycle for the constant stream of negative world events. It feels bad even if we’re living in a time of relative peace and safety. It’s easy to point to the horrors in Syria, Ukraine, Africa and think we live in dark times. But really we’ve made a lot of progress.

And that got me thinking about what it’s like to be a parent in a wider context. Do we live in a “Golden Age of Parenting”? Not saying we’re the best parents who have ever lived in all of humanity. There are clearly exceptions and our kids clearly face obstacles. The shrinking middle class. The education gap. Problems finding jobs. Problems paying for education. The healthcare system is still broken despite efforts to reform it. Blah blah blah.

That’t not my point here. My parenting point is twofold:

1. We tend to judge “bad” parents by their deviation from the commonly available network of family-related opportunities.
2. Those family-related opportunities are, generally, wider and more readily accessible than at any other time in human history.

The easiest way to illustrate my point is vaccines and the debate over them. We live in an age where most childhood diseases that would have otherwise killed thousands just a few generations ago have been eradicated. Those diseases are making a comeback not because we lack technical or medical know-how. They’re back because a few people have deviated from the Golden Age of Parenting mainstream.

You can apply the same premise to almost any topic. Despite ongoing issues, we live in a time when education around the nation is perhaps the best it’s ever been. We still have huge problems with poverty, but today’s low-income problems are not the same in absolute terms as just a century ago. Think of a poor child in 1915. That’s World War I. Here in Chicago the immigrant neighborhoods were … a good word is “festering.” Today’s crime, drugs, and incarceration are, relatively speaking, improved. No excuse to call it quits, obviously. But my point here is: progress.

Dads no longer are trapped in the factory or office and can spend time with their children. Moms can have careers and are no longer socially forced into staying home. We’ve made strides with gay rights, adoption, race, gender, religions, and we can network with people around the globe. This serves as a counter to that neighborhood isolation in the beginning. We may be physically isolated, but we’re connected by technology like no time before.

We often fight back against our tech gods these days and it’s fashionable to dismiss technology as evil or somehow ruining us. But that same technology also lets us send photos of the grandkids, instantly find strange animal facts, telecommute to our job so we can spend more time with our children, and whatever else we can dream up. Just yesterday my 3-year-old daughter wanted to see photos of neurons under a microscope. Kids in 1915 weren’t asking to learn about brain chemistry while snuggling with their dads on the couch.

If you asked me what era of history I’d like to be plopped down in to parent two children and generally live a decent quality of life with great freedoms, tolerance, education levels, lack of disease, and overall happiness, the 21st century would be a pretty prime candidate.

This is a good time to be alive. And probably the best time ever to be a parent.

A version of this first appeared on Newfangled Dad.

How to Raise an Adult, the new book by Julie Lythcott-Haims, discusses the many pitfalls and consequences of overparenting.

A former undergraduate dean at Stanford University, Lythcott-Haims recounts stories of young adults who have been left devoid of the basic life skills that are crucial to surviving in a dangerous unforgiving world because of their overprotective mothers and fathers.

She writes, for example, that many parents today are hesitant to give their children the freedom to play alone outdoors or in the playground the way they were allowed when they were children. Lythcott-Haims blames a pervasive fear of child abduction born in the media in the 1970s and early 1980s with such high profile kidnappings as that of Adam Walsh.

As she writes, “We perceive that our nation is a more dangerous place, yet the data show that the rates of child abduction are no higher, and by many measures are lower than ever before.”

In the process, Lythcott-Haims says, parents who fear for their children’s safety and escort them everywhere they go are creating adults who are afraid to fend for themselves. Other parents, she says, are so afraid to let their young children succeed or fail on their own merits that it is almost considered common practice for students to hand in assignments that were clearly done by their parents while the teachers look the other way.

How to Raise an Adult goes into one outrageous case of overprotective parenting where a mother criminally intrudes in her son’s career. The young man, Richard, had graduated from an Ivy League college and worked his tail off at his job for two years in New York City hoping to get ahead. His mother who felt he was working too hard and not having a social life decided to call his boss directly to tell him to ease up on her son. According to Lythcott-Haims:

 “When Richard came back to work on Monday, instead of being permitted to enter the bank of elevators that soar to the skyscraper’s top, the security guard handed him a cardboard box containing the personal items from his desk. On top of the box was the note: Ask your mother.”

How to Raise an Adult is packed with true stories of parents who in trying to protect their children, instead have done them grave dis-service. But it is also packed with solutions for preparing your children for independence while letting them know that you love them and want to be included in their lives now that they are adults.

How to Raise an Adult will resonate for all parents who want the best for their children. It is truly of value as we try to give our young children two important gifts … roots and wings.